


Cut Strings

by Ackerhardt



Series: Inversion [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor/Vox is onesided, Gen, Hurt Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mind Manipulation, Partial Mind Control, Protective Hotel Staff, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Vox Is In Hell For A Reason, protective Rosie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:21:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,159
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24652999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ackerhardt/pseuds/Ackerhardt
Summary: A sequel, or essentially a part 2 for 'Invisible Strings'. This fic won't make any sense if you don't read that first.Being under Vox's thumb for so long, Alastor starts losing faith in his possible liberation. And so as the situation worsens, he looks to a different form of escape.
Relationships: Alastor & Alastor's Shadow (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & Husk & Niffty (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & Rosie (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor & The Hotel Staff, Alastor & Vox (Hazbin Hotel), Alastor/Vox (Hazbin Hotel)
Series: Inversion [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1782412
Comments: 19
Kudos: 107





	Cut Strings

**Author's Note:**

> If you didn't already read the tags, I implore you to! Maybe even re-read them, this fic contains some very serious themes. So if you know these themes bother you, I urge you not to read this.

Alastor sat quietly, facing his clean and organized desk. Currently nothing sat atop its smooth brown surface. None of the papers or writing tools that normally occupied it. Alastor had tossed or moved them away at one point or another. He wasn’t sure why, although he wasn’t very sure about a lot of things anymore. Having the desk be empty, clear, made him feel more comfortable. Alastor continued staring down at it, not knowing how long he’d been doing so. He’d guess it would be an hour or two, but who knew, he had no clock in his living space. It was boring, nothing happened as he kept his gaze trained at the blank desk. That thought kept coming to the forefront of his mind, begging him to do something--anything, but he ignored it. He didn’t trust  _ his  _ suggestions anymore, nor did he have the energy to partake in anything more. He was just so  _ exhausted.  _ Fighting a losing battle internally. 

Alastor neatly folded his hands into his lap, a small crackling numbing them. Vox did whatever the hell he pleased, whenever the hell he pleased. Even now, as he allowed him to remember what he was, or more like what he wasn’t anymore. Although it came with a warning, a strong reminder of how fragile his autonomy was should he choose to do something directly detrimental to Vox, mostly enforcing his isolation. He couldn’t tell anyone, or Vox would kill them--have him kill them. All it did was discourage him from talking with anyone, about anything, not that Vox seemed to mind. Alastor could feel the strong possessive streak Vox had when it came to himself. It surrounded the TV demon--and by extension Alastor as well whenever they interacted nowadays. It was an unpleasant feeling, one that Alastor hated along with its implications. Damn it all, he hated their meetups, their conversations. Especially hated how physical Vox was, always touching him, despite knowing very well how disconcerting it felt to him, to be fair, it was probably the only reason Vox kept at it constantly. The feeling of constant contact made him want to set himself on fire then and there, anything to rid him of the constant prickling internally and externally. Though Alastor doubted Vox would let him get off that easily. 

Alastor would wholeheartedly like to claim he hated Vox. But It just wasn’t the truth anymore, which was not to say he tolerated the Overlord. He would not have anything to do with him if Alastor had his way, despite Vox’s attempts at shifting his opinion on the matter, all unsuccessful... _ for the moment.  _ Alastor didn’t doubt Vox could and would change his stance towards Vox given enough time. Time that he had, an eternity for whatever he wanted. Truthfully Vox was just as pathetic in death, and probably in life as well if Alastor had to guess, as the deer demon had originally assumed. All their time spent together had served as an explanation for why Vox worked so closely with his Overlord companions: Valentino and Velvet. Why he cared for them, as Alastor now knew they did in turn. Most importantly why Vox allowed him any autonomy at all. The simple answer was that Vox was lonely. The kind of loneliness that came from being on top. It meant there weren’t many others to be considered equals and everyone else below could not be trusted. It served as a reason why Vox seemed to cling to his two allies of equal stance so strongly. And demonstrated why he let Alastor think and partially act for himself. the TV demon wanted to interact with him, the real him. So no, Alastor did not hate Vox, some part of him could understand where Vox was coming from now, after all, he was starting to feel the same way. Alastor had no one to talk to, not honestly anyway, besides Vox. And maybe that had been his intention, but Alastor felt apathy towards the notion. There were too many aspects of his afterlife going wrong or missing. 

“Al—astor?” Charlie abruptly cut in as she swung his door open, starting strong but looking at him in confusion by the end of her greeting. “Weren’t you sitting there 3 hours ago when I last came in?” She asked, still appearing confused. Alastor now knew how long it’d been, how peculiar, it didn’t feel like three hours. 

“Oh heavens no! You think too highly of my patience my dear! Just pure dumb luck you happen to see me occupying the same spot.” Alastor responds with fake amusion as he chuckles. Though no sound effects accompany it, as he didn’t have control over most of them. Despite that, Alastor had to keep up appearances, so Vox would allow his residence here. The Hotel...it felt like a safe place for him, even if he knew no place was safe for him. Still it carried with it the facade of being safe, more than any other place, any other place that wasn’t Empirium that is. Alastor suspected it was more the demons that took residence in these places than the actual location. 

“Alright, I'm holding a staff meeting in five minutes, I came to tell you!” Charlie told him and Alastor was going to respond when Charlie silenced him with her hand. “And yes, participation is mandatory.” She added sternly.

“What a shame, there go my evening plans of Genocide.” Alastor remarks with mock frustration. Charlie still gives him an incredulous look. “Of course I’m merely jesting, I’m no Angel Dust, the importance of this Hotel’s reputation is not lost on me.” Alastor’s grin widens as his veiled jab at Angel makes Charlie frown. 

“See you there.” She merely says before disappearing down the hall again. 

Some small part of Alastor wants to call her back, her cheerful and positive persona being refreshing. In fact, anyone at the Hotel would do, including Angel, but he couldn’t, he  _ knew  _ that. Speaking of the rather volatile arachnid, Alastor finally learned why Angel spent so much time at the Hotel even if rehabilitation did not seem to entice him. It was painfully obvious now, Angel used the Hotel to run away from his less than understanding boss Valentino. Alastor could truly understand that now, for he did the same in regards to his  _ situation  _ with Vox. How ironic, Alastor mused, before noticing it was time for him to go meet with the others for this staff meeting. 

Darn Charlie, making him go, he could barely imagine being able to do something he enjoyed, or used to, much less something he didn’t enjoy and never had. Afterwards he always felt bad for rejecting Niffty’s attempts at sitting down and chatting, like they used to, with or without Husker. Then, to make matters worse, she’d remind him that Rosie was trying to do the same. It  _ had _ been almost a year since they last spoke, so it was understandable. They were what they called ‘ _ concerned _ ’. Which flattered him a bit, and annoyed him at the moment, them trying to upkeep relations made everything that much harder for him. He’d tried so very hard to convince them that nothing had changed, but of course there was no way they would believe him. After knowing him for the better part of a century, his hollow words and unenthusiastic mannerisms were apparent to them. 

Alastor tried  _ pretending _ to be himself. Yet that thought alone disturbed him. If he was  _ trying to act  _ like himself, then who was he now, If he wasn’t himself? What--Who had he become?

Alastor leaned on the wall for support. He was going to be late. Again. 

\--

Alastor could not be more disinterested in what Charlie had to say, Angel and Husker seemed to share his opinion on this as Angel had fallen asleep (why was he even here??) and Husker was on his  _ mobile device  _ (as Vox mockingly referred to it in his presence) while taking discreet sips of his flask. Angel’s nap didn’t last long as he was kicked under the table by Vaggie who glared at Angel before turning back to Charlie, her glare fading into a softer expression. 

“That about concludes the preliminary discussion!” Charlie enthusiastically spins on her heels, looking to all of them for any and all opinions regarding the matter. 

“ _ Preliminary?!”  _ Angel says aloud, baffled. “There’s  _ more??” _ Vaggie kicked Angel under the table again. “Will you stop?!” 

“As soon as you gain some manners.” Vaggie shot back, crossing her arms. Angel huffed in response, clearly he was not going to gain some manners anytime soon. Or ever, Alastor remarked internally. Vox appeared amused by the notion too, Alastor could feel it. Although It still made him feel ill. Alastor would never get used to the second presence in his headspace. 

“At least give us a break or somethin’ in between, give me some time for a fuckin’ nap.” Angel suggested, and murmurs of agreement were heard from a few of them, Alastor included. 

“Sure! It’ll help me gather my thoughts too.” Charlie rolled the paper used for her presentation back up, sauntering over to Vaggie who made room for her on the couch next to Vaggie. Alastor joined Angel and Husker by the bar, leaning his elbow against the counter, his thoughts consuming him once more. Niffty glanced his way a few times but didn’t come talk to him yet, a small relief on his part. Turning her down again would visibly sour his mood, more than it currently was. Much to his surprise, he felt the oppressive and suffocating presence of Vox leave him. All forms of thoughts of minor rebellion entered his mind at the increased freedom, even if he knew it would not last. 

Alastor glanced around the room, waiting for some stupid idea to come to mind, but he stopped as he focused on the Holy Knife that Husker owned. It sat innocently on one of the storage units for the liquor served at the bar, and it brought on a terrible train of thought. One that he’d already indulged in quite a few times. Yet, it seemed Vox was not particularly pleased with that and always had a few choice words for him when he caught the rather self destructive idea circling his thoughts. But now, he wasn’t here to force him to stop, and the inevitable results of the action grew more and more enticing. It would stop all of this suffering, giving him peace of mind, freedom, and it would prove to be a grave loss for Vox. What more could he lose anyway? His attachments to Hell hardly had anything that would suffer from his loss, his acquaintances would be fine, he trusted that fact, as he knew they trusted him to be the same. Hell was unpredictable, one must be prepared to lose, they all knew that. The loss of his afterlife was hardly anything to consider, as far as he was concerned,  _ Alastor the Radio Demon  _ died that night at Vox’s private quarters. 

Alastor ignores the two other internal voices begging to have themselves known, his two longest allies. Alastor almost felt bad.

“Why Husker my good fellow--”

“The fuck you want?” Husker cut in before he could even finish. 

Alastor smiles at this, albeit slightly somberly Husk notes. It was weird and had the cat demon suspicious. 

“I must admit, I’m quite bored myself. Could you let me inspect that Holy Knife of yours?” Alastor questions casually, widening his grin to make it appear as if he was trying to pester Husker as he often did. 

“After you lost it for fuckin’ months? How about no way in hell.” Husker’s tail tips swishes, broadcasting the cat demon’s aggravated mood for all. Alastor watched it with minor fondness, almost as if committing it to memory. Alastor brushed it off, it wouldn’t matter, he had to ignore it all. Couldn’t be weak, not now when he had such an opportunity. Still his emotions betrayed him and he glanced around at everyone several times. 

“Come now, sharing is caring, yes?” Alastor held onto his facade of an entertainer. He clinged to it, afraid of what he’d find underneath. “I promise it will be quick  _ and  _ it won’t leave your sight!” Alastor bargains.

“If it makes you stop whatever it is you’re doing.” Husker responds, clearly meaning Alastor’s attempts at frustrating him. 

“Is that a deal then?” Alastor holds out his hand, already knowing the end result. 

“Fuck no!” Husker blatantly ignores Alastor’s outstretched hand, reaching for the Knife instead and hands it over to Alastor who’s hand is shaking curiously.. Alastor inspects it once more, the handle is carved with exquisite and intricate patterns, resembling vines perhaps. 

“You really should tell me the history behind this one.” Alastor notes aloud while continuing to stare at it. The longer he does, the louder his companions become. Luckily no Vox yet. Alastor had to end this quickly, yet he was stalling. 

“There’s no history to tell.” Husker says into the bottle he was downing, but he kept his gaze pinned on Alastor, who was acting strangely. Husk knew this kind of strange, recognized it from his time in the war. It didn’t make any sense though, so he watches passively instead. He’s interrupted when the radio turns on, him and Angel turning to it and then looking at it in confusion. Husk knew this song, very well in fact, a large number of people did too.  _ We’ll Meet Again by Vera Lynn.  _

_ “Let’s say goodbye with a smile dear.”  _

Alastor perks up too, giving the radio a brief glance before ignoring it again. Clearly his companions were now acting up, leave it to them to be rebellious all the way to the end. Husker walks over to the radio, intending to turn it off. He didn’t like it, the heavy reminder of his life. 

Alastor takes the Knife in one hand setting his other arm on the counter facing up. The radial artery would work nicely, he knew as he’d severed it multiple times with his victims. 

_ “Keep smiling through. Like you always do.”  _

Alastor’s Shadow, one of Alastor’s companions, enters a panic, unlike its deceptively calm master. Appearing next to Husk, it tugs on his arm frantically, clearly distressed. The cat demon turns to it, he’d not seen the Shadow act this way in a long time. It follows the Shadows line of sight and practical dragging over to Alastor--No, he knew  _ exactly where this was going-- _

_ “We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when.”  _

Alastor had to get the positioning right and just force the depth to be far enough. Pushing down hard, that’s exactly what he did. He bit back an anguished cry, only partially succeeding. The pain was excruciating _. _ The wound that he was digging deeper hurt more than he could imagine, the burn and sting from the Holy weapon hardly helped. Blinking back tears he ignores his surroundings.  _ Deeper,  _ he just needed to get deeper.  _ quick before Vox can come back.  _ His disorganized and jumbled thoughts are all interrupted as someone full on slams into him, tackling him to the ground and pinning his arms down.

“The Knife!” The demon on top of him calls out, as Alastor hears the distinct clanging of it being picked up. His eyes focus once more, meeting those of Husker’s, appearing more troubled then Alastor had seen them ever. Alastor widens his grin in response, though he looks the farthest from being happy. 

“I’m afraid you don’t understand…” Alastor says quietly, as Husker yells something else to the demons around them. He doesn’t hear any of it, only seeing and hearing Husker and Niffty, one holding him down, the other inspecting the damage he’d managed to inflict. He has to stop them, before he ends up being forced to harm them.  _ Why can’t he feel his powers? _

“You’re fuckin’ right, I don’t understand at all.” Husker responds, turning to look back down at Alastor, who’s still grinning. It pissed off the cat demon. 

“No, no  _ no--” _ Alastor’s calm voice cracks, as he desperately tries keeping up his calm guise. He was already feeling dizzy. “--You really  _ don’t _ , This  _ has _ to end here.” 

Husk strengthens his grip as he feels Alastor push against it, but he can see that Alastor’s consciousness was fading, which was not a good sign. 

\--

It was a goddamn fucking disaster. The entirety of the Hazbin crew was restless and horrified to some degree .All of them were trying to occupy themselves with something though most notably Charlie was trying to get a hold of Rosie for him and Niffty. She’d want to know and probably would have more of an idea as to what was the root cause. 

None of them had seen it coming, Husk doubted Alastor had either really. It appeared to be an irrational decision, one made in the moment. Which brought its own set of questions to the millions that already existed. But really, one question stuck out the most to him.  _ What could be so horrible that Alastor, the Radio Demon thought death would be a better option?  _

Fuck, with his knife too. He’d seen the signs, he’d ignored them. Now of course it was a costly mistake. Hell, even before all this, for the past months he’d been weird, and had practically isolated himself from the rest of them, and Alastor never did that. Not only did he deny them, he wouldn’t even talk to Rosie. Of course in hindsight it seemed much more obvious that something was so incredibly wrong. Wrong with Alastor. 

He turned to Niffty who was exhausted. She’d worked overtime, stabilizing Alastor and then cleaning the mess the fucker left behind. Husk could tell that Alastor’s stunt had really gotten to her, as she sat on one of the barstools listlessly. 

He sat next to her, placing a hand, more like a claw, on her shoulder. Their expressions met as they exchanged understanding looks. Husk has promised to be the one to tell Rosie. He wanted to alleviate the amount of work that Niffty had as much as possible. 

“It’s—it’s Rosie. She’s on the phone.” Charlie came in to inform Husk. Charlie still looked terrible, not that Husk was surprised. 

He headed over to the phone, mentally preparing himself. This was not a conversation he wanted to be having. 

“Rosie?” He asks for confirmation gruffly. 

“Ah, greetings Husk. Now are you going to tell me why dear Charlie appeared so distraught over the phone?” 

“Yeah, it’s about Alastor.” 

“Alastor?”

“Look, he just tried to off himself.” He said as flatly as he could. “We don’t know why, and we’re hoping you’d have any fucking clue.” 

There was a long pause of silence on the phone. Husk waited patiently. 

“I’ll be over soon.” Was all she said before hanging up. 

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This ended up getting a sequel after all.  
> The start is bleak, but it will get a lot happier I promise. We're getting a happy ending because I say so!
> 
> Still no proofreading, sorry.


End file.
